


Fresh

by stillmadaboutpetra



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9548618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stillmadaboutpetra/pseuds/stillmadaboutpetra
Summary: A short comedic sketch of Yuuri n Victor doing laundry.It isn’t until he lives with Victor that Yuuri learns just how often Victor changes his underwear.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Something very silly and sure for a laugh. Checkout my profile for other fics! I also post on Tumblr @stillmadaboutpetra

It isn’t until he lives with Victor that Yuuri learns just how often Victor changes his underwear. 

He never really saw the contents of Victor’s luggage bags, never paid them heed. He didn’t have to. Victor packed efficiently, ruthlessly, well-trained and well-adapted to living on the go. Yuuri still struggled to put together five days worth of coherent outfits, usually opting for a pair of pants and a few sweaters, always under prepared or deathly over-packed. But not Victor Nikiforov. There was always a crisp suit when he needed it. 

But the underwear thing….

Back at Hasetsu, Victor did his own washing unless Hiroko managed to snag the hamper before he could politely protest and flirt Yuuri’s mother into school-girl blushes. If Yuuri had had to wash Victor’s clothes, his dirty underwear, he probably would have died. It would have been a death of glorious ball-sweat and cum stains but still, death all the same. But he hadn’t, so he’d lived, naturally, only to now face the new and assured death that came with mounds of Victor’s black underwear. Only black. The styles varied. There were thongs, panties, briefs, boxers, boxer briefs. There was even underwear Yuuri strongly suspected but hesitated to confirm, that were women’s, with heart shaped cutouts on the butt and little bows. 

He’d experienced first hand Victor’s butt crack peeping out from a heart, a lacy trim just saying: come hither.

But why on earth is there so much underwear?

After three weeks of laundry, of doing covert underwear math, Yuuri has to ask. Most of  Victor’s clothes, Victor takes to get dry-cleaned a few blocks away. Underwear, socks, towels and his workout clothes are about the only thing that he dumps in the hamper. Most of the laundry is Yuuri’s, hence why he does it. Plus he likes folding clothes. Victor folds weird.

“Hey, Victor,” Yuuri broaches one evening. He thinks he does a great job too. Hey Victor. Yeah. Not weird at all. “Why did I just wash 21 pairs of your underwear…from this week alone?”

The laundry’s spread out on the couch; when Victor looks over from across the apartment, where he’s seated at the kitchen table over a mug of tea, Yuuri points at the nondescript pile of black undies.

“Oh,” Victor smiles winningly at Yuuri, face creased, so at ease. “I put on a new pair every time I leave the apartment.”

Yuuri blinks very slowly. “You do what now?”

Victor makes a show of sipping his tea, slurping the surface, looking over the rim with wide, unassuming eyes. Yuuri pinches the bridge of his nose and knocks his glasses straight. 

“You put on a new pair of underwear…every time you leave the apartment?”

“Well,” Victor sings, “apartment, hotel room, whatever. Yeah. I usually have a pair in my bag too. Or sometimes my coat pocket! One time at a restaurant, I reached for my wallet and whoops! Out came a thong. The waiter was very flattered.”

“Why?” Yuuri interrupts. And why also is he asking. Should he bother asking? Is there a limit to how much he ought to try to understand about his fiancé? Maybe he should let this go, out of his marital purview. But he’s perversely curious now. He has to know.

Victor shifts in his seat. He’s only wearing sweats now and Yuuri knows there’s no underwear on beneath the cotton blend. He knows because Victor had dropped his clothes into the hamper to be washed tonight while he’d showered and Yuuri had taken the elevator to the basement of the complex. 

“I like to be fresh,” Victor mumbles into his mug. His cheeks and nose spot pink. 

Damn. He’s cute. Almost too cute. But not cute enough to distract Yuuri from this inquisition or the sudden connection of data popping into his mind. 

“Hey, wait a minute…Is that why you carry around moist towelettes? Are you…every time you go to the public bathroom are you wiping your balls clean?”  


Victor puts his mug down and fixes Yuuri with a serious look, fingers laced and locked together beneath his chin. “Have you ever smelled my gooch, Yuuri? It’s pristine. Are you telling me you don’t love how good I smell down there?”

Yuuri can’t speak through the clamp of his hands over the distressed gape of his mouth. The things you don’t know! It takes him a minute to process.  “That’s why you smell like cucumbers!”

“Yes! Yes, that’s why I smell like cucumbers every time we have a quickie in a bathroom stall. I like being fresh and clean,” Victor huffs. “With how much sweating I do, showers aren’t enough. I like freshening up throughout the day, especially…down there. Especially now too that you’re…down there,” he waves his hand around. “It seems polite.”

And: it makes sense. Well, it makes sense for Victor Nikiforov to be doing something peculiar and unnecessary like pampering his genitals throughout the day. And it probably makes sense in the universe where Yuuri ends up engaged to his idol. His idol who changes his underwear multiple times a day and uses cucumber refresher wipes on his ball sack. 

“Okay,” Yuuri says carefully, folding a shirt and watching Victor’s defense posture from the corner of his eye. “Good to know…thanks for telling me? I think? I…like? How you smell…when you’re dirty. Ah, when you haven’t had time to, uh, freshen up. If that matters to you,” Yuuri clears his throat, biting down hard on his lip, trying not to laugh. “But I like your cucumber dick too.”

There’s a long empty silence while Yuuri folds more laundry until finally Victor murmurs a dainty: “thank you.”  



End file.
